


The Hollow People

by SheilaPaulson



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-23
Updated: 2004-01-23
Packaged: 2018-10-07 03:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10351587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheilaPaulson/pseuds/SheilaPaulson
Summary: NOTE : Formerly published in Gateways #4SUMMARY : While on a mission, mysterious aliens abduct Daniel and tell him that Jack is dead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 FanFiction - The Hollow People

  

"And try to find out what's making those strange readings the M.A.L.P. detected, Colonel," General Hammond instructed from the control room as SG-1 gathered at the foot of the ramp, awaiting the opening of the Stargate. "As you know, they don't appear to tie in with any Goa'uld signals we've ever encountered. The Tok'ra claim they know nothing specific about P5R-676--" 

"Or if they do, they're not blabbing about it," Jack O'Neill muttered cynically. "Don't worry, General. It's not as if the M.A.L.P. picked up a horde of angry life forms just out of visual range. It didn't register any life forms other than animals, but we'll make sure." 

Carter nodded. "With those indications of naquada close at hand, there might be nothing more than the remains of an old mining facility." 

"I remember nothing of this planet," Teal'c added. "I never visited it with Apophis." 

"But those ruins look intriguing," offered up Daniel Jackson. 

O'Neill heaved a sigh. He'd have to rein in his favorite archaeologist or he'd be rushing off to investigate, never mind the nasties that might be lurking just out of range. 

"Seventh chevron locked," announced the tech, and the Stargate kawooshed open. 

Hammond responded. "Very well, SG-1. UAV telemetry hasn't shown us any evidence of active civilization near the 'gate, but such a promising source of naquada shouldn't have simply been abandoned. I want to find out why. If those ruins offer us any clues, then your expertise will be very useful." 

Daniel grinned delightedly. O'Neill could tell exactly what he was thinking; he didn't get orders to play with rocks nearly enough. Jack made a face. "I can tell this mission will be a bundle of laughs. Sweet." 

"But just think, Jack. We could find out all sorts of things here. The UAV data suggests writing carved into the walls of those ruins. If we can translate it...." 

"I know. I know. But I don't have to like it, do I?" O'Neill added suddenly before Daniel could protest, "I've got a funny feeling about the planet. I think it means trouble somehow." He hadn't even expected to say the words until they emerged. Teal'c arched an eyebrow at him, and Carter frowned doubtfully. 

Daniel blinked in surprise. "What kind of trouble?" 

"I don't know, just trouble. We'll have to keep our eyes open. Listen up, campers. Everybody be double alert this time around." He started up the ramp to the gate, his shoulders squared to face the possible threat, and the rest of his team fell in with him. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

The planet had to be one of the most desolate worlds SG-1 had ever encountered. Its sun was a very old one, its light a muted red that gave a nightmare glow to the landscape. The Stargate stood in a mountain valley touched here and there by scraggly vegetation, with no sign of habitation or structures of any kind except the distant ruins. They looked even more tumbledown in person than they had in the telemetry reports. The climate was cold, too, and, in sheltered spots, traces of frost still lingered, perhaps never melting in the weak sunlight. Chill and piercing, the wind wailed around them; otherwise, no sound disturbed the stillness. Daniel couldn't help shivering. The overall effect was eerie as if they had just stepped into a graveyard. He didn't think he was particularly fanciful, but there was a miasma of misery hanging over the gloomy scene. 

"Oh, this is just great," Jack muttered as he looked around. "The perfect place for a holiday resort--not. I'll give it a minus five stars." 

"It looks deserted, anyway." Sam's every sense was alert. "But those readings came from this area." She went over to the M.A.L.P. and checked it. "It hasn't been tampered with anyway. There's no evidence anyone has been here." 

"Yeah, like this stony ground would show footprints," muttered Jack. He rolled his eyes at her. "Are you picking up anything?" 

"Not a trace, sir." She prowled over to the DHD and inspected it. "At least there's nothing wrong with this." 

"I do not like this world." Teal'c planted his feet and raised his staff weapon to cover the empty terrain. 

He didn't appear to expect a response, and Jack didn't give him one. "What are these pillar things?" Jack asked. There were two of them at the foot of the ramp, tall spires twice the height of a man fitted with little circular bobbles on the top. Now that he'd noticed them, Daniel realized there were more of them scattered here and there. They looked a lot newer than the ruins, but then 'gate technology didn't seem to weather. Maybe this came from the same source even if the towers didn't resemble naquada. 

"Teal'c?" O'Neill asked. "Do you recognize those things?" 

"I do not." The Jaffa glowered at them as if he blamed them for his unfamiliarity. 

As they stared at the nearest tower, the circular object on top moved slightly. Daniel found himself remembering Cimmeria. There had been a device at the 'gate there, too, that had sent Teal'c and Jack into trouble. 

Jack must have remembered, too. "I think we should move away from those things," he decided and sent them off  away from the 'gate in the direction of the collapsed ruins. Daniel couldn't be sure, but he thought the circle rotated to follow their movements. 

"Security camera?" Carter suggested. "That would mean someone was here monitoring us--or else those are old and automated, possibly connected in some way with the signals we got before." 

"An underground base?" hazarded Jack with an uneasy glance over his shoulder as if he half expected whole troops of Jaffa to be advancing on them from all directions. 

No one advanced at all. Nothing happened, nothing but the wind wailing desolately through the rocky landscape. 

"Okay, kiddies," Jack decided. "Daniel, you're with me. We'll take a quick gander at your ruins. Carter, you and Teal'c check out these pillar thingies. See if you can get readings from them or if you can pick up any signals. If anybody's watching us, I want to know it. And stay alert, everybody. Daniel, that means you, too." 

Daniel grinned. His gun was in his hand. "Don't worry, Jack. I know I get caught up in weird artifacts and alien writing, but this place is kind of...eerie. Like it was haunted." 

"Haunted? Oh, for crying out loud, that's all we need. So we call in the Ghostbusters?" He grabbed Daniel by the scruff of the neck and pointed him in the direction of the ruins. 

The ground sloped down toward the abandoned structure, and Sam and Teal'c were quickly out of sight. Daniel wished they weren't, but the lure of the ruins was too strong for him to object. It was only a feeling, anyway. Jack would tease him about his nerves, probably all the more strongly because he looked more than half spooked himself. 

Then they reached the ruins and Daniel forgot about ghosts and weird feelings. They were clearly ancient, although probably not as old as the Stargate itself. And there was writing on them--cuneiform writing. _This is wonderful_. "Jack, this is incredible," he began excitedly. "It's Sumerian. I can read it." He squinted at the symbols. "Listen to this," he began excitedly. "This is a quote; I've seen it before at ancient sites on Earth. "'Whoever has walked in truth generates life.' It's a Sumerian proverb. Just think, here it is, so far from Earth, and I--" 

All at once the silence was shattered by a deep baying sound, strange and savage. "Jack?" Daniel asked uneasily. "What's that?" 

Jack's knuckles whitened on his weapon, and he looked around for shelter. The nearest entrance to the ruins was about thirty meters to the right. "Whatever it is sounds _mean_ and _hungry_. I don't like it. Maybe we better--" 

He never finished his sentence because the baying intensified, and an animal that looked like a misbegotten cross between a dog and a wolf, only larger, loped around the corner of the nearest building and lunged at him. The first beast was followed by a dozen more, some even bigger with shaggy brown coats and long pointed fangs. Before either man had time to react, Jack was surrounded. 

"No!" Daniel screeched and fired desperately at the creatures, but the ones he missed dragged Jack down, and it was impossible to get a clear shot at them without blasting the colonel, too. He raced closer, yelling and waving his arms, hoping to drive them off. 

"Get out of here, Daniel," Jack bellowed, his voice thick with pain, as he got off a shot that sent one of them flying. "I'll hold them off." Blood glistened darkly on the shoulder of his uniform jacket, the material torn away to reveal a lacerated shoulder. 

"No," Daniel bellowed. He had no intention of abandoning his friend. If only he had a zat gun. There were too many of them for Jack to fend off, and Daniel couldn't fire at them without hitting him. He shouted as he ran, still firing, and some of them turned from Jack to spring at him. 

"Damn it, Daniel!" Jack yelled, struggling beneath the weight of snapping, snarling creatures. "Run!" He had his hands around the throat of one of them that kept biting at his face. 

One of the wolf-dogs snapped his teeth closed on Daniel's gun arm, and he cried out in pain and dropped his weapon. The creature started to drag him down. He blurted out a desperate yell. "Teal'c! Sam!" Then a blue beam of light shot out from the nearest tower spire to envelop him, and with the light came unconsciousness that he couldn't resist, even to help Jack. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

An eternity later Daniel opened reluctant eyes to a room filled with pale light. He was shivering with cold, and his lacerated arm throbbed unmercifully in rhythm with his heartbeat. When he tried to sit up, the movement sent pain flashing up and down his arm, making him dizzy, and he groaned. "Jack?" he called weakly, then, when there was no reply, he shouted, "Jack! Where are you?" 

Jack didn't answer, and Daniel was forced to give up shouting, temporarily, to investigate his surroundings. He lay in a small, square room, lit with globes of light at regular intervals set high on the walls. One of the walls held an inactivated viewscreen like a built-in television screen, but there was no visible door and no furniture. He lay on the floor, and, in contrast to the man-made appearance of the rest of the place, it seemed carved from solid rock. It felt cold enough. The technology didn't resemble Goa'uld or Tok'ra design either. But something about it reminded him of the tower spires. There was one of them in the corner, shorter, and the revolving globe on top tracked his slightest movement. 

His arm throbbed fiercely, beating through him as regularly as his pulse, and when he investigated it, he understood why. The creature that had attacked him had done a thorough job; the wound was messy and had bled a lot--it was still bleeding sluggishly. No wonder he was dizzy. Whoever had rescued him from the attack hadn't bothered to dress the wound. 

"Sweet," Daniel muttered to himself in unconscious mimicry of O'Neill. He'd have to do what he could for it with strips torn from his clothing. Then he noticed what he had been half aware of all along, that he was no longer wearing his own fatigues. Instead, he was clad in a sleeveless white tunic that came barely to his knees. No wonder he was so cold. His prison was scarcely warmer than outside, and this light garment couldn't begin to keep the chill at bay. Goosebumps had broken out, and he shivered continuously. 

Rather clumsily, he managed to tear a strip from the bottom of the tunic and wrap it around his arm, almost whimpering with the pain. Nothing to clean the wound with so he could only hope to stop the bleeding. Once he had the bandage in place, he felt a little better, and he propped himself against the wall although the effort left him shaking and sweating. He could concentrate fully on the worry that permeated him. "Where are you, Jack?" he muttered. 

He needed to discover where he was and what had happened to Jack. There had been too many of the dogs. Jack must be...hurt worse than he was. He didn't want to take that thought any deeper. Loss of blood had left him lightheaded and a little disoriented, but he knew he had to get out of this cell. Cell? Was it a prison? Was he trapped here? He couldn't be. He had to find Jack. If O'Neill's wounds hadn't been treated, either, then he would need help quickly, and it looked like there was no one but Daniel to give it. Jack had to be hurt worse than he was, and Daniel didn't think he could take his absence to mean that the locals were busy bandaging him first. 

He staggered painfully to his feet, a groan forced from him as he pushed himself erect and a wave of pain flowed through his arm. With the wall for support, he circled the room on unsteady bare feet, exploring it as thoroughly as possible, checking for seams that might indicate a doorway or any evidence of writing, even if he didn't recognize the language. If a way out existed, it must be in the ceiling, out of sight in the darkness above his head. He couldn't get out that way. Trembling with fatigue from even such slight exertion, he sat down to wait for his head to stop swimming. "Jack? Sam? Teal'c? Can anybody hear me?" he yelled. 

"There is no need to shout." 

Daniel's head jerked up wildly at the prompt and unexpected response. He was still alone in the cell. The voice came from a speaker grid set just below the viewscreen. He should have guessed he was under observation. The towers had watched them all along. With an effort, he forced himself to his feet again to confront the threat. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Where is this? What have you done with Jack?" Better not to mention Sam and Teal'c in case they were still free, although his shout had already alerted the observer to the fact that he and the Colonel hadn't been alone. If the tower spires were remote cameras, the people here already knew how many people were in their party. More of the dogs might have already attacked Carter and the Jaffa. They might be.... 

"We have done nothing with him," a female voice replied carelessly as if it couldn't matter. "The greathounds killed him, not us." 

Daniel jerked with all the impact of a staff weapon blast. No! It had to be a lie. He wouldn't believe it. "Killed?" he faltered. "You mean Jack's _dead_?" They had to be lying. It wasn't true. _Don't let it be true._ "No, he can't be." His voice hardened accusingly. "You saved _me_ from them. Why didn't you save _him_?" 

"The greathounds are many and vicious," the man said indifferently. "As you see." 

The screen flickered to life to present a view of the barren valley leading to the ruins with the carved walls, and Daniel watched miserably as the beasts dragged Jack down just as they had in reality. The security cameras had videotaped the episode. He heard Jack warning him away, and his own determination not to desert his friend, saw the greathound that attacked him, the light that shot out and stunned him. He vanished from the scene without a trace. Teleportation? Jack yelled his name and tried to get to him, erupting out of a tangle of greathounds, bleeding from many wounds. Maybe he thought the light had vaporized Daniel. Even injured, he was fighting like crazy. Although Daniel had hoped that the speakers were mistaken, that Jack had managed to survive after all, he could not doubt the evidence of his own eyes as the beasts dragged him down again and one of the remaining greathounds went for Jack's throat, then raised it's bloodstained muzzle to bay harshly in triumph. Daniel shivered sickly on the verge of throwing up. Unbearable pain ran through his body. He couldn't stand it. Jack couldn't be dead so horribly. But there it was on the screen, unbearably real. 

"You could have saved him, you know," The woman sounded bored. "If your aim had been better, if you were quicker...." 

"No!" he protested with violent revulsion. Was it true? Had Jack died knowing Daniel had failed to save him? Had he died blaming him? It couldn't be, not when Jack had warned him off, had tried to save him. But maybe he hadn't been quick enough. Maybe he could have blasted the one that had ripped Jack's throat out. He turned his face away from the screen and didn't even try to stop the anguished tears sliding down his cheeks. 

"Jarna is right," the male voice said placidly, "but it doesn't matter. He is dead, and tonight the greathounds do not go hungry." He didn't seen very interested one way or another. 

"You saved _me_ ," yelled Daniel. "Why couldn't you save him, too?" 

The woman Jarna produced an artificial laugh. "What makes you think we saved you, Daniel? We merely took you away from the greathounds. Why should they have all the sport?" 

"Sport?" he echoed doubtfully. Suddenly, he had a very bad feeling. "What are you talking about?" 

"Oh, but that should be obvious." The man sounded disappointed at Daniel's lack of perception. "We will have the pleasure of your suffering and death rather than leaving it to the greathounds. It was too late to save your friend to give us pleasure, but we could still take you." 

"When are we to begin?" Jarna asked, a hint of life stirring the dead tones of her voice. 

"Oh, not immediately, Jarna. You would not deny us the enjoyment of his anticipation, would you?" 

"You're crazy," Daniel yelled, repulsed by the sudden greed in her tones. "What kind of monsters are you? You're worse than the greathounds." 

Jarna chuckled obscenely. "You're right, Barlo. It is much better to wait." The speaker crackled once and fell silent. 

"No, wait," Daniel called. "Come back." But there was only silence. He slumped back against the wall in stunned exhaustion, shivering uncontrollably while Jack's death played endlessly in his mind. Why, why, why had these people let him die like that? Why hadn't they fired their teleportation beams sooner? Surely not just to watch Daniel suffer? That was _crazy_. 

__. Jarna's words came back to him although he tried to shut them out. _You could have saved him, you know...could have saved him...could have saved him._

"No!" He pressed his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to stop the pitiless echo, but it didn't help. The accusing words pounded relentlessly inside his head. 

Had she been right? 

No, he couldn't have saved Jack. It wasn't possible. He'd tried. God knew how hard he'd tried. 

But now he couldn't be sure. If he had taken on the greathounds, Jack might still be alive.  . . . _could have saved him_ . . .  The beast raised its bloodstained muzzle, baying, the sound repeating eerily in his mind. "No," he whimpered, cradling his injured arm against his chest. "I couldn't have saved him. God, why couldn't I have saved him?" 

__

*** * * * ***

  

He had no way of telling how long he had been unconscious, but when he dragged himself up out of the dark, he was hungry and thirsty as well as cold so some time must have passed. His arm felt as if the greathounds were still tearing into it with burning teeth, and when he undid the bandage to examine it, the torn flesh was red and inflamed. For the first few seconds, the sight of it wavered before his eyes and he had to blink hard to steady his vision. 

There was nothing in the cell he could use to clean it so he merely retied the bandage, although the lightest pressure to the wound was almost enough to make him black out again. Infection. Who knew what might be in the greathound's saliva? He could die of this. Die like Jack.... 

"He's awake," Barlo said. "How did you sleep. Daniel?" 

"What do you care?" 

"Ah, but we do. We have even brought you a gift." A tray lowered from the ceiling on a slender cord. 

Daniel staggered to his feet to investigate then drew back sharply, his stomach knotting up in agony. It was Jack's jacket, torn and stained with his blood. 

"Oh, don't you like it?" Jarna asked as Daniel backed away in horror. "Too bad. I thought you might be cold enough to wear it. We'll take it back, then." 

"No." He reached out with his good arm and pulled the jacket off the tray, then sank down against the wall, holding it in his hands. He didn't put it on, he only fingered the material softly, his head bowed over it. 

"I do believe he wants it for sentiment," Barlo told Jarna instructively. "A primitive aberration, but somewhat interesting, and, of course, useful to us." 

"Yes, yes." Jarna was starting to come to life. Her voice soared with eager excitement. "I can feel his pain, Barlo. A lovely, lovely feeling." 

Daniel's head jerked up at that. "Stop it!" he yelled, revolted. "Leave me alone." 

"You must allow Jarna her pleasures, Daniel. She has been in need for such a long time now." 

"In need of what?" 

"Pain, Daniel. Pain and suffering." He spoke the words with relish, his anticipation as keen as Daniel's might have been at the sight of a new ancient language to study. 

"Yes." Jarna's voice rang with fervor. "Barlo has given me your pain, Daniel." 

"That's insane." 

"No, it is necessary." The viewscreen activated, replaying Jack's death. Daniel tried to turn his head away, but a white beam shot out of the wall beside the viewer and pinned him, immobilized before the screen, frozen in position, unable to close his eyes, as the monitor showed him Jack's death, not once but five or six times from different angles, in ghastly detail. There could be no doubt. No one could live with his entire throat torn out. Daniel could only gaze in helpless agony, while tears streamed down his face. 

"See how you hesitate," Jarna taunted relentlessly as the light went out and freed him from the   paralysis. "Your cowardice caused your companion to die." 

"No," shouted Daniel. "It wasn't like that." But what if it had been? "Jack...." he whispered brokenly, staring at the screen. "Jack, I tried. I tried...." 

The picture went dark. "Think about it," Jarna said. "It is of no concern to me what you believe." The voices fell silent. 

"God, no," Daniel breathed quietly. Could he really have saved Jack? If it were true, if he could have saved him and didn't, how could he live with that knowledge? How could he ever face Sam again, or Teal'c, or General Hammond? How could he even face himself? He turned his face away from the screen. "I'm sorry, Jack," he said, tears running unchecked down his face. "I'm so sorry." 

But his apology didn't stop the pain, and it was the pain that Jarna would be feeding on. What was she anyway? Human? A remnant of the Sumerian culture that had carved the cuneiform on the walls? An energy being? If she were human, how could she feed on his pain? He didn't understand. Was it simply emotional gratification or was it more; did she derive actual energy from his misery? Well, Daniel would simply refuse to give her the satisfaction of enjoying his suffering. He wouldn't suffer for them. He wouldn't give them the pleasure. He wouldn't let Jack's death feed these sick people. He wasn't sure if the physical pain of his arm was a pleasure to her, too, but as long as he was awake he couldn't stop that even if he could manage to turn off his feelings. And he couldn't do that. So he lay down on the stone floor and closed his eyes. They couldn't get to him asleep. 

But it seemed they could. Too weak and weary to resist, Daniel passed into an uneasy sleep almost immediately, and he dreamed, fleeting images of this and that: his parents' deaths, crushed beneath the capstone, Jack the way he'd been on Abydos, confessing that his son had died, Sha're taken away to Apophis, Sha're as Amonet, looking at him with cold, unfeeling eyes, Skaara as Klorel trying to kill him and the look on Jack's face after he'd had to shoot the boy who had become a second son to him, Carter when she thought her father was dying, Teal'c's pain over his son, Sha're lying dead from Teal'c's staff weapon, every unhappy thing he could remember since his childhood right up to the greathounds dragging Jack down and killing him. The nightmares were relentless, pitiless. He couldn't escape pain, not even in the supposed refuge of sleep. "No," he moaned fretfully as he struggled to wake. "No, no, no." And knew that Jarna was waiting, watching, stealing away the pain of his dreams. 

Daniel awoke feverish yet shivering with cold. Sleep wasn't the answer then, not if they could tap into his mind at will. They might even be able to control the dreams, guide them to the type of events that would satisfy their lust for pain and unhappiness. 

So he did the only thing left to fight them--flooded his mind with every happy memory he could recall. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, to lie there in pain, miserable over Jack's death, so Daniel forced himself to remember the good times, but once he began, he found a kind of triumph in it as if he were making a memorial to Jack. Every key point in their friendship, everything good; Jack realizing when they said goodbye on Abydos that he was going to be all right, Jack's hug to welcome him back after they had destroyed Apophis and Klorel's ships, the way Jack had always stood by him like the time he'd been addicted to the sarcophagus,  and the way he'd helped him in his search for Sha're, the loyalty of the team, Sam, Teal'c. The way even the people of the base had come to accept him and his weird theories, never condemning him for them like his scientific peers had. Moments of shared laughter. Warm companionship. The realization that  SG-1 had filled the void in his life caused by the lack of family; they had _become_ his family. He piled all those memories into a glowing pyre and offered it up to the hungering Jarna, a mental thumbing his nose at her. Eventually he even began to feel good about it. 

"This will never do, Daniel," Barlo chided him. 

"You didn't give me any choice," Daniel replied stubbornly. "I'm not going to let you use me to feed your sick minds." 

"It is the only way we can survive, Daniel." 

"What do you mean?" Startled, he considered for the first time the _reason_ for their actions. Unless they were simply sadistic, they had to have a reason. He hated it, whatever it was, but the best way to cope with any crisis was to try to understand it. _I'm sorry, Jack. But I have to find out why_. 

"We need the stimulus of pain to continue to exist. It is not possible for you to resist us indefinitely although you may do so for a time. Jarna will not permit this much longer, though. She is young and impatient--and very hungry." 

"She can try," Daniel retorted. "I won't be much good to her dead." 

"She won't allow you to die yet," Barlo replied. "And I do not think you will like the lengths we can go to and still manage to keep you alive." 

"But _why_?" Daniel demanded. He tried to force the pain of Jack's death into the back of his mind, although it wouldn't stay there. He tried not to imagine Sam and Teal'c dead. They might be in the next room, going through the same sort of torture. He had to find a way to get out of here, to escape, to stop these sick people. To get revenge for Jack's death. _It can't be my fault. It can't be._ "If there's nothing I can do about it, not even die, then I've got a right to some answers." 

"Very well, that can't hurt. We were once like you, Daniel," Barlo told him. "A race of beings like your people who lived and worked and cared. But that was long ago. Ours is an ancient world, and our people have been here a long time. Even before the Goa'uld brought us here." 

"From Sumeria," Daniel hazarded. "The writing on the ruins...." 

"Yes, long, ago, so long we have forgotten. The Goa'uld abandoned us here, but at first they did not leave us alone. They came. They took from us, but we fought them. We were fighters then, we were wise and skilled and we drove them off. In the peace that followed, we learned how to build a perfect society; everyone had everything they desired. No one had to do anything except seek pleasure. We built the towers that interested you and your friends to warn of the Goa'uld, and we trained the greathounds to attack should they ever return to this world. After a few encounters, they stopped coming. And so we sought pleasure for countless generations. But have you any idea, Daniel, what life becomes when there is nothing to exist for but pleasure? Eventually we lost the drive to accomplish anything that could be called creative or positive. We simply existed, and our world became a living hell. We became so dulled to pleasure that nothing could rouse us except pain. We would have even welcomed the Goa'uld, but they had stopped coming long ago, and we were too lethargic to go out through the Stargate and seek them. Now we hoard pain and cherish it because it is the only thing that keeps us alive." 

"Do you feed on it physically?" he asked. At least it was a distraction from the pain and the memory of Jack's death--not that anything could remove that image from the back of his eyes... "How can you do that? You're human. You came from Earth. Humans can't--" 

"Part is emotional, but part is physical. We don't know how it happened, but we changed." 

"Evolution doesn't work that fast," Daniel objected. 

If Barlo understood what evolution was or cared, he didn't react. "Perhaps something in the air or the water here has changed us. Something in the very soil where we grew crops. We do not know. All we know is that there is a terrible hunger within us, and that the pain sustains us." 

"That's disgusting," Daniel blurted. His scientific curiosity faded again. "Maybe it means your race has lived too long. Where do you find pain? Do you ambush people like me who happen through the Stargate? Do you step through and seek out victims on other worlds? Or do you prey on each other?" 

"All of those things," Barlo admitted. "Sometimes we lure them through. We tempt them with supposed riches and they come, and we take them. After a time, they learn and come no more." His voice was weary. "There are times when I can even agree with you. We have lived far too long. Maybe we should end--but how can we end? We lack sufficient energy to try. We can only continue as we are and hope that eventually we will have preyed on each other enough to put an end to it all." 

Sickened and weary, Daniel closed his eyes. "Why don't you let me go?" he asked. "One more person can't make that much difference to you." 

"No, I cannot let you go," Barlo told him, "I, too, enjoy your pain, and I have enough need of it that it would be agony to let it escape me. I am sorry for you, Daniel, but you will have to stay here and suffer for us a bit longer." The speaker silenced. 

Daniel dragged himself to his feet and began a new investigation of the walls of his prison. It was hard to keep is balance. Just moving made his whole body scream a protest, and the walls of the cell blurred and sharpened before is eyes. _Don't think of that, Daniel. Think of the good times. Happy thoughts... Try to remember..._ There had to be some way out of here. He'd find Sam, he'd find Teal'c, and they would bring Jack's body...bring Jack home. 

He wasn't going to stay here and take any more of this. He couldn't. He had to get out now--while he was still sane. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

Jack O'Neill awoke to the icy wind sweeping across the desolate plain and to daggers of pain radiating through his body. Warily he fumbled for the MP-5 as he opened his eyes, but the creatures had gone. "Daniel?" he faltered, struggling to sit up. "Damn it, Daniel, you better be all right." 

He was weak from loss of blood, but he was alert, and he found it strange that, having dragged him down, the animals would have left him alive. He examined himself hastily and discovered a bad wound in his shoulder that should be taken care of right away and a number of minor ones in his arms and legs. His jacket was gone--Daniel must have removed it to try to treat his wounds--but Daniel was nowhere in sight, and he wouldn't have left Jack wounded like this without making the effort to help him. "Carter!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Teal'c!" God, if those dog things had found them, too.... 

No one answered. Only his voice echoed across the deserted landscape. The ruins stood nearby. Was Daniel inside, driven back by the dogs? They might have kept him from helping, chased him away. Maybe he was hurt in there and needed help. "Daniel?" O'Neill called again, and then he saw the body. It lay only a little distance away, and it was obviously dead. No one could have survived such a state of mutilation. Reluctantly, Jack levered himself up from the ground--the pain made him gasp--and staggered dizzily over to investigate. 

Up close the sight was far worse. Whoever this was had been savaged by the creatures until he was unrecognizable, his features torn and bloody, his body practically shredded, but Jack could just make out the clothing the body was wearing--the tattered remnants of BDU's just like his own. 

"Daniel?" Jack's voice was barely audible. "Oh, God, Daniel." His friend must have fought off the creatures and tried to help him only to be jumped and killed. Jack didn't know why he hadn't been finished off, too, but instead he had been left here to find this. 

He knelt beside the body and bent over him, trying not to see the torn flesh, the twisted form. Desperately he planted his hands on the gouged chest and started external cardiac massage, even though the movement flared agony through his torn shoulder. That didn't matter, not if he could help. Was Daniel even breathing? Confused and desperate, he bent to see if he could feel any breath escaping. He touched the bloodied cheek in a futile attempt to check for life signs, but all animation had gone a long time ago. The lacerated flesh was cold beneath his fingers, and he yanked them away. It was too late. The automatic revulsion made him feel guilty, and he breathed, "Ah, shit, Daniel," under his breath. Sadly he stretched out his hand and touched a strand of the bloodstained hair, then he turned abruptly and bowed his head while harsh sobs shook him. "Damn it, why didn't you run like I told you?" he gasped. 

After a while, Jack rose, picked up his gun, and tottered unsteadily back toward the Stargate. He knew he wasn't strong enough to carry Daniel's body with him or start a search for Carter and Teal'c; he needed medical treatment first, and he needed it badly. But he could call in for help. A rescue party could find the others, could bring Daniel home. 

Leaning weakly against the DHD, he punched in the code for Earth then fumbled for the GDO to send the recognition code. Still no trace of Carter or Teal'c and no evidence of their bodies. He was so drained his yells for them hadn't carried very far. They hadn't responded. How could he leave without searching for them? How could he leave without retrieving Daniel's body? He wouldn't leave him here in case those dogs came back. 

So, instead of stepping through the gate, he staggered over to the M.A.L.P. and activated the communications system. After a few minutes, he had Hammond's face on the screen. 

"Colonel O'Neill? You're injured. What's wrong?" The general's voice sharpened into anxiety as he tried to look past the sagging colonel. "Where is the rest of SG-1?" 

"Send a search party and a medical team," he gasped, "I...think I need a doctor. Tell them to be armed, General. There are savage dogs here as big as wolves." 

"You're hurt. Badly?" 

"I'll live," he said tiredly, "but I'm not leaving without Carter and Teal'c. I was attacked by a pack of wild animals. I don't...know where they are." 

"What about Doctor Jackson?" Hammond's voice filled with reluctance. He knew O'Neill too well not to suspect the worst from the sound of his voice. "Is he hurt too?" 

He hated to say it. "I'm sorry, General," he told him, his voice breaking. "Daniel's dead." And then the darkness swooped down on him and blotted out Hammond's urgent questions, erased everything but the pain. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

"He's fighting it." Jarna said to Barlo, "Every time I go to him, he resists. I can feel no pain from him except the physical, just a numbness. I don't like it. I want him to suffer." 

"You may do as you will with him, Jarna, but do not kill him yet. You may even find that the anticipation of breaking his spirit will grant you the pain you need. There are many ways to proceed, and of course you may also tap in on the pain his companion is feeling. He now thinks Daniel is dead, just as Daniel feels certain that he is." 

"I know. I felt it when he found the body we placed there in Daniel's clothing. It was lovely, Barlo, but it was not enough." 

Barlo gave her a look of mild disgust. "Are you not becoming excessive, Jarna? You are disturbing everyone with your lust." 

"I will do this my way," she snarled. "You gave me his pain. You cannot interfere now." 

"What will you do?" 

"I think," she said with relish, "that I will have to hurt him more." 

  

*** * * * ***

  

SG-3 was heavily armed, and so was Doctor Fraiser and her medical team. They had seen the tape of O'Neill's message, and it was obvious he had been badly injured. With Carter and Teal'c missing and Daniel...dead...the colonel had to be in pretty rough shape, even if his injuries proved less severe than they had looked on the tape. Fraiser had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that it wouldn't be pretty over there. Daniel, dead. It was almost impossible to believe. He'd survived so many rough things. He'd even been dead before and come back, as impossible as that would have seemed to Janet before she joined the Stargate Program. But it was unlikely P5R-676 had a handy sarcophagus. The colonel wouldn't have claimed Daniel dead if he hadn't been positive of his facts. The slightest chance that Daniel was alive would have had him dragging Jackson back through the 'gate even if he couldn't manage to carry him. O'Neill was no quitter; he wouldn't give up on Daniel unless it were completely final. 

And where were Carter and Teal'c? Savage dogs as big as wolves? Could they have taken down a Jaffa armed with a staff weapon? Or had Teal'c gone to Sam's aid and been jumped from behind? Janet didn't know what she was going to find on the other side of the Stargate, but she knew she wouldn't like it. 

The final chevron locked, and the gate swooshed open. Hammond's voice came down to them from the control room speaker. "Bring them home, people," he urged. He sounded broken-hearted, the way everybody up there in the control room looked. It was so hard to lose one of their own. This time, the losses might even be more. Daniel for sure. Carter and Teal'c possibly. And O'Neill badly hurt. He might not make it either. 

"We'll do what we can, sir," Fraiser responded. She fell into step with the Marines who, guns at ready, looked ready to take on ten packs of wolves. They would bring home everyone they could. 

It just might not be good enough. 

Doctor Fraiser followed the two units of armed Marines through the gate and stopped dead at the sight of O'Neill collapsed over the M.A.L.P. He didn't stir when they approached. Quickly, the Marines spread out to guard the gate area, ready to shoot anything that moved and left room for Fraiser and her people to go to O'Neill. She closed her eyes for a second at the thought of Daniel dead beyond redemption, but, for the present, her grief at the loss of the young archaeologist was muted by her concern for the colonel, who might still be saved, and for Teal'c and Sam, who were out there somewhere, far away from home. Once they had him stabilized, once they found Sam and Teal'c, she wouldn't be able to hold her sorrow bay any longer. Her heart ached, both for Daniel and for Jack who would be heartbroken over the loss of his closest friend. Too soon after Sha're's death. Too reminiscent of the loss of his own little boy. How much could any man take? 

Jack didn't stir until Fraiser reached him and put a hasty hand on his forehead. His shoulder looked awfully bad, but there were other wounds, too--too many of them. They'd all bled freely. He needed a transfusion right away. He looked bad, in shock, weak and dazed and out of it. But even worse was the stark misery that twisted his features even in unconsciousness. 

At her touch, he roused, not quite to complete consciousness but to an awareness he wasn't alone any longer, that rescue had come. 

"I'm all right," he muttered weakly. It was obviously a lie. Fraiser was horrified by his battered, bloodstained appearance and by the makeshift bandage so sketchily applied to his shoulder. But Jack continued. "Watch out for the...wolf thingies that attacked me. There are a...lot of them, and they're nasty. They...killed Daniel." His eyes were bright with tears and fever. "I found...his body," he mumbled. "Over that way." He waved a vague hand at the distant structure. "By the ruins. He was...excited about them. He was...happy...and then they came." His voice broke and he caught it. "I want to...take him home." 

Fraiser clasped his sound shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "We'll find him, Colonel. I promise." She looked up at Colonel Webster who was in charge of the Marines. "Can you see if you can find Major Carter and Teal'c? And...Daniel's body. I don't think he'll be very far away. The colonel couldn't have come that far in his condition." 

Before the designated Marines could take two steps, they heard a shout, and Fraiser looked up to see Carter and Teal'c hurrying toward them. They looked breathless and disheveled, and Carter had her left arm in a makeshift sling. There was blood on Teal'c's face and forearm, the sleeve of his jacket torn away to reveal a rough bandage applied there. Both of them held their weapons at ready and looked thoroughly alert and prepared for trouble. Janet knew the very second they noticed O'Neill. They stiffened to attention like pointers spotting a game bird. 

"Colonel!" Sam yelped and raced up to O'Neill as Fraiser and her team got him situated on the gurney to take him home. The color left her face in a rush. "Oh, god, sir," she breathed. "They got you, too? The wolf-dogs?" 

Colonel O'Neill's eyelids lifted, and he squinted muzzily up at her. "Carter?" His eyes slid past her and registered the stolid presence of Teal'c who stood at the major's back, his face shocked at the sight of the colonel. "Teal'c? Y'okay?" Relief slid across his face in a wave. He wasn't strong enough to endure even good news, and his eyes glittered too brightly. Carter paled at the sight. 

"We had a run in with a pack of wild dogs, sir," she said in hasty explanation. "We couldn't get back right away. Oh, god, look at you." 

"'m okay," Jack insisted vaguely. 

"I want to get him back to the infirmary right away," Fraiser interjected hastily. "This looks bad, but I think he'll be fine once I get him patched up. That shoulder will need a lot of work but--" 

O'Neill's good hand shot out and grasped Janet's arm. "Wait," he gasped. "Carter. Teal'c. Daniel..." He caught his breath painfully, but it was apparent that it wasn't the work she was doing on his shoulder that caused it. 

Fresh alarm ran across Sam's face. "Sir? Daniel? Is he...he's already back through the gate...isn't he?" 

The colonel flinched. He lowered his eyes, unable to look at his teammates. "Daniel's dead." 

Carter gasped, and one hand shot up to cover her mouth. Teal'c went so rigid he might have been a statue. Neither one of them said a word for the first, stunned moment. 

O'Neill collected himself. "Teal'c? Carter? He's...over by the ruins. I couldn't...bring him back myself. Go and...bring him home." 

"We will, O'Neill." Teal'c made it sound like a sacred vow. 

"We'll go," offered Webster. "You two don't look up to it." 

"We're going," Carter said in the tone of voice no one present would have dared to dispute. Even Apophis might have hesitated to stop her. 

Teal'c added firmly, "It is our right to go." Fraiser blinked hard to keep her eyes from misting over, and she worked automatically on O'Neill's shoulder. 

"Thanks, kiddies," Jack managed, then his eyes slid shut. Carter flinched, and a muscle bunched in Teal'c's jaw, but Janet was glad. Better that he be out of it for a little while. She'd see him sedated and have him treated and bandaged before she let him wake up. Much better for everyone. 

Carter put out a tentative hand toward the colonel then she drew it back. She took up her weapon in her good hand and said abruptly to Webster in a hoarse voice, "Right. Let's go." 

  

*** * * * ***

  

They found the body right away near the entrance to the ruins. If it hadn't been for the clothes and the fact that Daniel was otherwise unaccounted for, Sam wouldn't have recognized him. But here he lay, and the hair was the right color and length and the clothes were right. A part of her tried to insist that this was a mistake, that the dead man couldn't be Daniel, that somehow, he was alive, that it was a trick. Not Daniel. He couldn't be dead, not like this. But how could that be, when here he lay, wearing Daniel's clothes? And for the colonel to find him like this.... Sam's heart lurched painfully. 

Teal'c stopped beside her, and she saw him clench his teeth. For such a stoic, Teal'c's face could be completely expressive to someone who knew him well. In that one glance before she tore her eyes away to give the Jaffa his privacy, she saw his bottom lip quiver. He didn't meet her gaze, but he put his hand out and clasped her shoulder. For an eternity that couldn't have been more than fifteen seconds, they stood, side by side gazing down at the ruin of a man they had both considered friend and family, that they had both loved, and it took every ounce of strength Sam possessed not to turn and fling herself at Teal'c and howl like a baby. 

But she couldn't do that. The colonel was hurt, and worse, he was devastated. She had never seen him look like that before, and she'd seen him at rock bottom more than once, in pain and in grief. But this death, this very vivid and ghastly death...to come out of unconsciousness and see that.... Sam knew without one iota of proof Jack O'Neill would have fought like crazy to protect Daniel when the wolf dogs attacked. He would have sacrificed himself for his friend; he would have considered it his right, his privilege, to save him even if it cost him his own life. To find himself alive, almost intact while Daniel lay here dead would tear him apart. 

Sam knelt beside the body and put out her hand to stroke the tangled, bloodstained hair. It felt stiff, wrong, and she yanked her hand away. The clothing was torn and bloodied, revealing gaping wounds beneath it, and strips of bare, unmarked flesh, as if the wolves had fought over the very fabric. For a long moment, she stared down almost unseeingly, then she drew a shaken breath and shook her head. No. What was it? Something bothered her. Something strange, something that wasn't right.... 

"Teal'c?" she ventured doubtfully, and then it clicked in her mind. She worked her arm out of the sling. Ignoring the pain that ran through the laceration in her upper arm, she grabbed the tattered fabric of Daniel's tee shirt and ripped it open. She unfastened the trousers. Teal'c made a startled, surprised sound and reached for her, only to halt his grab. 

"Major Carter? What are you--" He sounded shocked. He hadn't understood. He looked startled at the sudden elation that shone in her eyes. The Marines gaped at her and didn't try to stop her. 

"It's not Daniel!" she cried. "Teal'c, it isn't Daniel." 

"Who else could it be?" the Jaffa objected. "How can you possibly know that?" 

"Because," said Sam, unable to hold back the triumph that ran through her voice, "whoever this poor man is, _he doesn't have an appendix scar_." She pointed to the area, the unmarked area, devoid of scars. 

Teal'c drew a startled, relieved breath. "Indeed. We must tell O'Neill immediately." 

"I can't wait to tell him...." Carter's voice trailed off. "Teal'c...." 

"I understand." Suddenly, they were communicating without the need for words. 

"These are Daniel's clothes," Sam said as if she needed it stated. "This body was left here to deceive us, to make us believe he was Daniel. Which means that someone else is here, and someone wanted us to take the body and go home. They must have assumed we'd find out eventually or maybe they didn't care. They didn't take the colonel. They only took Daniel. He's still alive." 

"We cannot assume that," Teal'c began carefully. 

"We can. If he were dead, there would be no reason to substitute a different body. They wanted him and they wanted him alive. We have to find him." 

"We must find him." He turned to their Marine escort. "We need a search party." 

  

*** * * * ***

  

Daniel awoke to find the room far colder than it had been before, and he realized that Jarna was attempting yet another tactic. He shivered uncontrollably, and wrapped his arms around his chest in a futile attempt to warm himself, but he just couldn't manage any relief. His arm throbbed savagely and when he tried to move a dull ache in his head sent waves of dizziness through him. It took a real effort to drag himself to his feet, then he stood swaying for a minute before he tried to cross the room, to retrieve Jack's bloodstained jacket. He would have to wear it after all, even though he hated the idea. Maybe he could view it as one final gift from his friend. As he neared the torn, bloodied garment, the jacket rose up into the air before his eyes and vanished into the darkness overhead. "No!" he cried, and pounded the wall with his fists in helpless frustration. That was a bad mistake. The blows forced waves of pain through his arm. He slid limply to the floor, and lay huddled there, his arm clasped protectively to his body, unable to smother a moan of agony. 

"You killed me, Daniel." 

It was Jack's voice. Daniel's heart lurched and he sat up so quickly the dizziness nearly pitched him down into darkness. "Jack?" It was a desperate plea for reason in a world gone so far beyond it that he had lost all hope. "Jack, please...." 

O'Neill stood before him, battered and bloodstained, his BDUs in tatters. Eyes hollow with pain and accusation, he glared at Daniel and there was no trace of friendship or concern or even of absolution in the brown depths of his eyes. "You killed me." He forced the words out between torn lips, and they echoed hollowly in the cell. 

"Jack, no, I tried," Daniel gasped. "I would have done _anything_ to save you." 

"I can see that." The condemnation was relentless, allowing no relief, no forgiveness. "Look at you. One minor wound in your arm. Now, look at me." He made a gesture that forced new blood from the wound in his shoulder. "I can see you were really concerned." 

Daniel tried to scramble to his feet, but he couldn't get a purchase on the smooth floor and his good arm wasn't strong enough to push him upright. "Please, Jack," he groaned. "I would have _died_ if I could have saved you. You _know_ that. You _have to_ know that." There was no strength in his words, certainly none to move the implacable man who glared at him so contemptuously. Jack's ghost? A twisted figment of Daniel's mind? He dragged himself toward Jack  on his knees because he didn't have the strength to stand. "You know it," he tried again. "But you're here. You'll be all right. I'll do anything..." 

"Here? I'm _dead_ , Daniel. You let me die. You could have saved me, you know?" 

Manda's words, coming at him in Jack's voice. Daniel stopped moving and stared up at the bloodied body of his friend. Was this a trick? Even now, confused and broken, helpless and dazed, Daniel's mind grasped frantically for hope. A trick. It had to be a trick. 

"You let me die." Jack's voice. It _was_ Jack's voice. They couldn't fake him out with Jack's voice. They couldn't.  That meant--it had to be real. Jack's ghost, come to reproach him. Something in the back of his mind suggested there was no logic in the thought, that there was more to this than he could see, but he couldn't follow that train of thought. He was too spent, too weak, to devastated. 

"Jack? Please, Jack...." He stretched out a desperate hand to his friend. "You know I would never have hurt you. You're my friend, Jack. You're my best friend. I'd never--" 

The image of Jack vanished as if it had never been there, as if the claim of friendship was such a reproach that even his ghost couldn't stand another second of Daniel's presence. Ghost? Hallucination? Was it real? Was anything real? Maybe _he_ was dead and this was hell. 

He was at the end of his rope, and he knew it. Jack was dead and maybe it really was his fault. He was alive, and Jack was dead. People died around him, people he cared about. His parents. Sha're. Now Jack. Maybe Sam and Teal'c, too. Nothing he could do would change anything, nothing could bring any of them back, and resisting almost made it worse. So he simply lay there and let what would happen, happen. He didn't see the projection, the holographic image of O'Neill, appear again and speak to him, and Manda's impassioned accusations and frantic attempts to rouse him washed over him in a mindless wave. He was beyond caring. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

They hadn't taken very long on their mission; Doctor Fraiser was putting the finishing touches on her field treatment of Colonel O'Neill when Carter and Teal'c returned. The doctor looked at them in surprise and then past them with a reluctant, tentative glance, afraid of what she would be forced to see. No body. But the expression on Sam Carter's face wasn't one of devastating grief. It was relief and anxiety and a fierce determination, but it wasn't the acute misery Janet had expected. She put out a hand to touch O'Neill. She didn't know what this was about, but maybe it would be good to rouse him to hear it. At the last moment, she arrested the movement. Better to wait. 

"What happened?" she asked. 

"We found the body." Sam's words spilled over each other in her haste so speak. "But _it isn't Daniel_. I can see why Colonel O'Neill must have thought so--he's wearing Daniel's clothes. But something struck me as wrong about it so I took a closer look." Her mouth twisted wryly at the memory. "And he didn't have an appendix scar. He's the same height and build and his hair's similar, but it's a little coarser. Whoever he is, he's pretty badly mangled, but he's not Daniel. If Jack had been well, I don't think he would have been fooled, either." 

"Are you absolutely certain, Sam?" 

The major's head bobbed. "Yes, Doctor. Positive." 

"Indeed. It is not Daniel Jackson," Teal'c confirmed. 

"Then Daniel could still be alive?" 

"He could." Teal'c looked like he was struggling vainly not to get his hopes up. 

Colonel Webster spoke grimly. "Someone had to switch the clothes and put them on the body you found. We're not the only ones on this planet. My men and I will stay behind to look for him. Doctor, you take Colonel O'Neill and the rest of SG-1 back through the Stargate." 

"We must stay and search for Daniel Jackson," Teal'c insisted grimly. 

"You're injured, Teal'c," Fraiser reminded the Jaffa. 

"I am not gravely hurt," the Jaffa insisted. "I will search. 

"I'll stay, too," Carter insisted. "I'm not badly hurt, either." 

Fraiser looked at the sling she had discarded, at the pallor on her face--and at the stubborn set of her chin. "Only if you give me your word to report to the infirmary the second you return through the gate," she decided. "And to leave the minute Colonel Webster feels you can't last any longer. I want your promise. Both of you." 

Carter must have known she wouldn't get a better offer. She nodded. Teal'c inclined his head in agreement. Then Sam knelt beside the unconscious man and touched his arm. "Colonel?" 

O'Neill's eyes fluttered open, and he regarded her groggily. "Carter?" He must have sensed, even in his half-conscious state, that she had something important to say. 

"Colonel, the body you found is _not_ Daniel. Do you understand? It's _not Daniel_." 

Jack stared at her without comprehension. "But it has to be. He's wearing...Daniel's uniform." 

Teal'c went down on one knee on the other side of the stretcher and rested a hand on the colonel's uninjured shoulder. "He is not, O'Neill. Major Carter realized the body has no appendix scar. It is therefore impossible it is Daniel Jackson." 

In his weakened condition, Jack's strength crumpled, and his eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "Teal'c." He reached up feebly and grabbed the Jaffa's arm. "Y'gotta find him. Don't leave him here." 

"We won't leave this planet without him," Carter vowed. "We won't give up until we locate him. I promise." She gave O'Neill's arm a reassuring squeeze. "While we search, they'll take you home through the Stargate." 

Jack had roused remarkably at their words. "No deal," he insisted, "I want help you look for him. If Daniel is in trouble...." 

"If he is in trouble," Teal'c said firmly, "it will do him no good for us to care for you while we search. He would not wish you to endanger your life on his behalf." 

"Your staying is not negotiable," Fraiser insisted. She was positive not even adrenalin could help the colonel to rise, not until she'd given him a transfusion and a sizable dose of antibiotics. "Trust your people, Colonel. They won't leave a stone unturned." 

Carter stood, trying hard to look as if her bandaged arm didn't hurt. "We'll bring him home, sir," she promised. She couldn't promise to bring him home alive, but O'Neill didn't notice the omission, or if he did, he chose to ignore it. He held her gaze for a long moment then caught Teal'c's eyes. "I'm counting on you," he said. 

As soon as he finished speaking, his eyelids slid closed. After a second, his breathing deepened. Fraiser bent over him. "He's sleeping now. It's the best thing for him. He's lost a lot of blood, and he'll need to regain his strength. We'll take him home now." 

  

*** * * * ***

  

Daniel shifted fretfully on the cold floor of his prison. "Jack... No... I won't... I can't..." His fingers groped uselessly for something, anything, to hold onto. He could hear Jack's voice accusing him in a dim and distant way, see Sam and Teal'c staring down at him, reproaching him with icy glares, blaming him for O'Neill's death. "I tried," he moaned. "I tried." But they wouldn't listen. They stood like sentinels, denouncing him with the very lines of their body. He squinted at them dazedly, unable to focus. Hallucinations... Ghosts? Were they dead, too? "Sam? Teal'c?" No response. Tears slid silently from Daniel's eyes and he wrapped his arms around himself, unable to look away from the images, even as they condemned him. Were they real? Was anything? 

  

*** * * * ***

  

Once the medical team had returned through the Stargate, the search party turned to survey the desolate terrain. "It won't be easy," Carter said. "Especially since those towers are apparently sensory apparatus and they can track our movements. At least we know someone's here even if the M.A.L.P. didn't detect anything." 

"They may be shielded against our scans," Teal'c said thoughtfully. "Perhaps they seek concealment when the Stargate opens. Someone is here, Major. The wolf-dogs did not dress that body in Daniel Jackson's clothing." 

"Underground, then?" wondered Carter. They eyed the barren valley. It wasn't going to be easy. 

"I think we should start near the ruins," Webster decided. "They might conceal an opening to an underground base." 

"Then let's go." With Teal'c right at her side, Carter started off in that direction so fast the Marines had to run to keep up with them. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

"Barlo, I think he is dying." 

"You see what your excesses have led to, Jarna?" Barlo demanded angrily. "You have made things worse for the rest of us. Dying? Why do you think that? His life readings are the same as they were the last time I monitored him." 

"But he just lies there," Jarna objected. "He doesn't react when I change the temperature or when I play the tape for him or when I taunt him about his friend's death." 

"You have pushed him past his limits then, Jarna," Barlo said sternly. "He can take no more, so he has shut it out. There is nothing more you can do with him now." 

"But I'm not finished," Jarna wailed. "I'm not finished with him yet." 

"I'm sorry, Jarna, but he is finished with us. If you like, I will dispose of him for you." 

"No, not yet. I may still get more from him. As long as he's alive, I want him, Barlo. You won't interfere?" 

"No," he said tiredly, waves of disgust flowing through him, disgust at the young woman, disgust at himself, disgust at what his people had become. The images she had projected, taken of Daniel's friends through the sensory apparatus, no longer appeared to reach him. Jarna's prisoner only muttered in delirium when the holograms appeared to him. Perhaps there was hope that she could gain sustenance from his physical pain or perhaps he would rouse again, although it seemed unlikely. His voice full of contempt and self-loathing, he agreed, "I won't interfere." 

  

*** * * * ***

  

Almost an hour had passed without progress in the search for Daniel. Occasionally Carter or Teal'c had the feeling they were under surveillance, but it never lasted very long, and there was no sensation of pursuit. The ruins were extensive and convoluted, with twisting passages between half collapsed rooms, all the walls carved with the cuneiform writing that must have thrilled Daniel. The sight of it made Carter's heart twist with regret. She was sure he'd been excited about it. Then the dogs had attacked. She had to believe the dogs had been set upon the two halves of SG-1 deliberately. The way they had suddenly abandoned Carter and Teal'c indicated they might operate under control. Since the larger party arrived, there had been no sign of them, and they had not savaged the body further or dragged it away. She couldn't help wondering how many of the wolf-dogs there were and whether or not armed Marines and zat guns would be enough if there should be another attack. 

They were gradually growing discouraged when Teal'c noticed something and thrust out a hand to point. "Footprints." 

"'Yes." They gathered around to study them. There had been animal footprints before, but these looked as if they'd been made by humans or at least by some creatures who walked upright--and who went shod. 

"Okay, good sign, folks," Webster decided. "We'll follow them. If they don't lead us to Doctor Jackson, they might lead us to answers." 

But they didn't. Instead they led into a narrow hallway and came to a stop at a solid wall even more heavily encrusted with cuneiform than before. The rescue party looked around in perplexity, and one of the Marines blurted, "Where the heck could they have gone?" 

"Into the wall itself," Carter decided. "Look, this one print is cut right in two. The wall opens up. Something must trigger an opening here, and we'll have to find out what it is." She noticed one of the tower sensors partway down the corridor, shorter than the outdoor ones to allow for the lower ceiling. Its eye rotated in their direction. "They're watching us." 

Teal'c raised his staff weapon. "We must blast our way in." 

"No, it could be shielded against our blasts, and it might even trigger an alarm if the sensor hasn't warned them. The people who live here must have a means to enter. Let's look for it. A lever, maybe." She knew she could figure it out. She was positive Daniel was inside. If they didn't find an easy way, she'd be happy for Teal'c to blast it open. 

So they searched the walls and the floor of the corridor, at first with no success. The tower itself had no buttons or signal devices upon it. Then, when they were beginning to wonder if the people who used the entrance didn't carry an electronic trigger device to open it or signal to be teleported inside, they heard a grinding sound, and a door carved from the solid stone swung slowly back. 

Framed in the opening was a slender almost-fragile young man clad in a pale colored tunic. He looked human or at least so close to human there were no obvious differences beyond a more slender bone structure than theirs. He stared at them in mild surprise, little expression visible on his bland face, then he brightened. "Have you come to kill us?" he asked. The idea was the only thing that had touched him; he seemed almost pleased about it. 

Carter and Teal'c exchanged puzzled looks. They hadn't expected that. "No," Carter said. "We have come here to find a member of our party, Daniel Jackson. Is he here?" 

The man smiled like someone who has just finished a delicious banquet. It was a frighteningly sated look. Carter wasn't sure how to take it, but she didn't think it boded well for Daniel. "Yes, he is here. He has given us much enjoyment of his pain. It has been a pleasant visit." 

"Explain," Teal'c demanded. He raised his staff weapon and aimed it at the man's chest. 

"He has suffered for us," the man said, a dreamy look on his face like a drug user under the influence of his substance of choice. 

Carter and Teal'c exchanged horrified glances, and the Marines muttered to themselves, their every weapon leveled at the newcomer. Was the man claiming he tortured Daniel? 

"He has suffered enough," she said angrily. A part of her wanted to zat the man, but she controlled her temper because they needed answers quickly. "Take us to him now." 

"If you insist," the man replied. "But you may no longer be able to help him. We have felt nothing from him for a long time now." 

That sounded ominous. Sam's stomach twisted. She absolutely did not want to go back through the 'gate and tell the colonel that they had found Daniel too late. "Take us to him now," she insisted. One way or another they had to get Daniel out of this place. 

"I will take you. He is no longer of any use to us." With a careless shrug, he led the way into the mountain. 

"Stay sharp," Webster instructed his men. "Nobody gets away from us. We don't want the word going out about us being here." 

The passage was smooth and well lit, the walls covered with an unfamiliar substance like a hard plastic which glowed softly. The passage looked like no one had maintained it for many years, and some of the light panels along the way had dimmed or gone out. Teal'c arched a questioning eyebrow at Carter. She shook her head. She didn't understand any better than the Jaffa did. All she knew was that they were going to take Daniel out of here. 

"All right," the man said after they had walked through curving passages for ten minutes. They had met no one en route; they hadn't even heard anyone else moving out of range. It was as if the place was practically empty. "He's in there. Push that button. I will tell them you are taking him. I don't think anyone will mind except maybe Jarna." 

Webster's MP-5 came to rest against the man's chest. "No. You'll tell no one what we are doing." 

"Oh, very well," the other replied carelessly like a spoiled child who has been denied a minor treat. The gun didn't alarm him in the slightest. Almost, he leaned into it. Carter shuddered with revulsion. 

Teal'c pushed the button, and the wall slid aside to reveal a small cell that felt much colder than the outer passage. In one corner, a figure clad like the young man who had brought them here lay huddled on the stone floor. He lay unmoving and the swish of the wall sliding back didn't rouse him. One arm was roughly bandaged, and blood had spotted the dressing. Sam couldn't tell if he were even breathing. 

It was Daniel. 

She was horribly reminded of the padded cell, the time the Goa'uld killer had infested him and simulated madness. Once again, Daniel was huddled in a small, sealed room, and the look on his face was one of utter emptiness. Sam's eyes burned with hot tears she couldn't allow to fall. Her stomach lurched like a plunging elevator. She was glad the colonel couldn't see him like this. He'd go berserk. 

"Colonel, you stay here and guard our 'friend,"' Carter said to Webster before she rushed to Daniel's side and turned him gently. His eyes were tightly shut, his face pale and blank of any expression. He was alive; he was shivering with the cold, but he was unconscious, and when Sam spoke his name in a voice that quavered, he didn't respond. Muttering curses to herself, Carter pulled off her own jacket, ignoring the pain in her injured arm at the movement and wrapped it around Daniel. Teal'c passed her his own. 

"Teal'c, he's alive, but I think he's pretty bad," she said, "We've got to get him out of here. We're probably under observation right now. Colonel, don't let anybody get too close to us. I'll see if I can revive him enough for us to move him." 

Teal'c glanced around the cell and nodded once at the wall monitor. "He lives." His mouth hardened, and he hefted his staff weapon. The look he threw at the fragile young man should have fried him where he stood without benefit of the weapon in his grip. 

"Yes, but he's in bad condition. We'll need to get him home as quickly as possible." Sam reached out and touched Daniel's cheek. He was too hot, feverish, and he didn't stir at the touch. "Daniel, wake up. Daniel, can you hear me? It's Sam. Teal'c's here, too. We've come to take you home." 

  

*** * * * ***

  

Daniel shuddered as consciousness came back. Now they were giving him fresh hallucinations. He had managed to resist everything else that had been thrown at him simply by tuning it out, but he couldn't shut this off so easily. Carter here? Teal'c? They looked so much more real this time as if they were actually here and not a product of is fevered mind. Jack wasn't here, not the accusing, near-transparent Jack who had denounced him before. But then he knew if this were real Jack couldn't come. Jack was dead, and if Sam and Teal'c were real, he'd have to tell them about Jack. He groaned despairingly. God, he couldn't bear it. But maybe this wasn't real, either, simply more hallucinations. They couldn't really be here, could they? But it seemed so real this time. He could feel a hand on his face, feel the comforting warmth of something wrapped around his shoulders and over his legs, and he desperately wanted it to be real. He hadn't been warm when they had appeared before, had he? His eyes opened slowly and he tried to bring the cell into focus. It did look like Sam and Teal'c, kneeling one on either side of him, with armed Marines in the doorway--there hadn't been a doorway before, had there? There hadn't been Marines. His self-blame wouldn't have invented Marines. He ventured faintly, "H-hallucination?" _Tell me you're real. I need you to be real._

"It is not, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c's voice was gentle. "We are here. This is no hallucination. You are safe now." The Jaffa gathered him up against his shoulder the way he might have done Rya'c while Sam tucked their jackets around him, her face full of worry. 

If this wasn't real, it was the worst thing they had done to him yet. They could be creating hope out of the images in his mind to revel in his distress when they yanked it away again. But it felt so real. He shivered and burrowed deeper into the warmth of their jackets. Real. Maybe it was real. But that meant there was something he had to say before any more time passed. He couldn't accept this comfort. He didn't deserve it. 

"Jack's dead," he whispered sadly in an unsteady voice. "The greathounds pulled him down. I...couldn't get a clear shot. They told me...I could have saved him...if only I..." He lowered his eyes. He couldn't bear to see their faces when they learned the truth. He couldn't stand it if they turned from him in disgust at his failure to save his friend. 

Vivid anger flared in Sam's voice , but it wasn't directed at him. "No, Daniel. Jack is alive. He's hurt, but he'll be all right. We sent him back through the Stargate for treatment. Doctor Fraiser says he'll be fine." 

She sounded so sure, and Sam wouldn't lie to him. "But I saw...." He made a feeble gesture toward the viewscreen. This had to be another trick. Jack was dead. He'd seen him die so many times. He could have saved him. He'd failed Jack when he needed Daniel most. He didn't deserve to be rescued. 

"What you saw must have been a trick," Teal'c told him firmly. "Daniel Jackson, O'Neill is safe. I give you my word of honor what I say is true. I would not lie to you." 

That's right, Teal'c would never lie. If this were real, if he and Sam were really here, then it had to be true. "Safe?" he faltered. His voice broke on the word. _Please, please, let it be true_. 

"Yes, Daniel." Sam reached out to stroke his hair back from his forehead. For an instant, her fingers jerked, then they came back, reassuring him. She said over her shoulder, "He's burning up. We've got to get him out of here right away." 

Daniel continued desperately, his voice a thin thread of sound. "They told me I could have saved him." 

"He _is_ safe, Daniel," Carter insisted. "He'd have been here himself to rescue you but Fraiser wouldn't let him. If he could have walked this far, he'd be here. I thought he'd order her to have his stretcher carried here. He's hurt, but he'll be fine." She found a smile for him. "You did everything you could. They made him think you were dead, too, so we need to get you home to reassure him as quick as we can. It was them, not you. Believe that because it is the truth." 

"...truth..." Daniel echoed, believing her when he could hold out against it no longer. He'd fought it off for too long, and now, the need to be strong was gone. The struggle to resist left him in a rush. With a choked gasp, he turned his face against Teal'c's arm as sobs shook his body. The Jaffa gathered him into his arms, murmuring soft, comforting words. 

He heard Sam speak to someone else; he wasn't sure who was here. Marines? He thought he remembered them in the doorway.  "We have to get him out of here, away from these people." Daniel could tell if the people who had hurt him suddenly arrived, Carter would probably shoot them without hesitation. "It's all right, Daniel," she said softly. "It's all over now. You're safe." 

  

*** * * * ***

  

"NO!" 

At the furious cry, Carter jerked her head up. A pale, emaciated woman stood at the far wall of the cell, slender and fragile like the young man, her face twisted into something ugly and savage. "He is mine. I will not let you take him. He was given to me. His pain is mine. You cannot have him." 

Carter took a step toward her and the woman saw the expression on her face and recoiled against the wall. "You will do nothing more to him," Sam declared with controlled fury. "If you try to keep us from taking him out of here, you'll regret it." 

They stared at each other, and the woman was the first to lower her eyes. She had probably never seen such resolution as she saw in Carter right then or in Teal'c as he rose with Daniel sheltered in his arms. "Oh, as you wish," she retorted carelessly--and went for a weapon. 

Carter and Colonel Webster fired as one. 

The woman died. 

Daniel hadn't really been aware of what was happening until the guns fired, but the sound startled him into alertness, and he lifted his head to look at Sam blankly. "What was that?" he faltered. 

"The woman is dead," Teal'c told him, dismissing her completely. 

"We're leaving now," Carter said to the man who had led them here. "If anyone tries to stop us, they'll meet the same fate as she did." 

The man gaped at them stupidly. No one tried to stop them. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

It wasn't until they were halfway back to the Stargate that Daniel began to come out of it. At first, he simply lay in Teal'c's arms shivering spasmodically and stared blankly into space. Halfway there, they met a party from the gate, more Marines with Doctor Warner in their midst. One of the Marines took Webster aside and explained that Fraiser had sent them back to find one of the wolf-dogs, and that they'd captured one and taken it back so she could analyze its saliva to be certain there was no unexpected dangers there. Warner made the rescue party stop long enough for him to examine Daniel and dress his injured arm. 

"There's an infection beginning, but we can treat it. Antibiotics are working well on Colonel O'Neill. I'll put a temporary dressing on this, and we'll hurry him home." 

"Will he be all right?" Carter had to know when he finished cleaning the wound. 

"It's not that bad a wound; only the fact it hasn't been treated will present any problems, and we'll be able to compensate for that." 

"I think the worst damage wasn't physical but emotional," Carter told him in an undertone, and described what Daniel had said about the people in the concealed city telling him Jack was dead and that he was to blame. 

"Seeing O'Neill alive and recovering should take care of that--and the less time he has to dwell on it the better. I'd give him something to make him sleep, but the best thing for him will be seeing Colonel O'Neill." He bent to affix the dressing while the Marines stood guard and Carter and Teal'c hovered protectively. 

They had reached the Stargate and Webster was keying in the symbols for home before Daniel began to look a bit more like himself. He glanced around and seemed to know where he was. 

"We're going home?" he asked faintly. 

"Yes, Daniel." 

"Jack? You...said he was alive?" 

"Yes. He's in the infirmary. Doctor Warner says he's responding well." 

"I saw a tape," Daniel explained wearily, avoiding Carter's eyes. "They must have doctored it. It showed him being killed by the greathounds. One of them...ripped his...throat out." He caught a shaky breath as the 'gate whooshed open and continued in a dreary voice, "They showed it to me over and over. They said it was my fault." 

"No, Daniel. It was just one more way for them to torture you. I know, and so does Colonel O'Neill, that you would have given your life willingly to save him. So try to forget this nonsense about anything being your fault. Do you understand?" 

Daniel's eyes warmed to life again, and he even managed a faint smile. "Yes." 

"It's over, Daniel. You're safe now. Just remember that." 

"What about those people back there? Will they just...get away with it?" 

"No, they won't get away with it. General Hammond says he's sending a team here to deal with the problem. If they can't resolve it, we'll spread the word to the Tok'ra and try to ensure that no one will come here again. The woman Jarna is dead. Another man we saw there told us her name and explained that she was responsible for what had been done to you. She tried to stop us from taking you out of there, and we were forced to kill her." 

Daniel's tensed muscles eased a fraction. He managed a weary grin for her and Teal'c. "Thanks," he said. "She was the worst." He shuddered at the memory of the false images she had given him of the accusing Jack and huddled deeper, into his blankets. They hadn't been real after all. None of it had. Jack was _alive_. Jack didn't blame him. 

As if she guessed his thoughts, Sam reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Let's get him home," Warner insisted and Teal'c picked him up again and carried him through the Stargate with Carter at their side. They had to get him to Jack fast. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

O'Neill was ready to zat somebody. He didn't care who it was, except that it was going to be the next person who walked in here and told him he had to be patient and wait. He wasn't going to be patient, damn it. He was gonna blast somebody and get to the gate if he had to drag himself there and pop all his stitches in the process. Damn it, they should have word by now. What was taking them so damned long? 

Fraiser was with him, but she'd picked up on his mood and was carefully not saying anything. Did that mean she'd had bad news and didn't want to risk breaking it to him? He eyed her suspiciously. Okay, so he felt pretty lousy and there were these stupid IV's pumping god knows what into his veins, but that didn't mean he wanted to be babied and kept out of the loop. He'd give it two more minutes and then he was going to explode. Okay, so he'd explode cautiously because his shoulder would probably fall off if he jumped out of bed, but somebody was going to tell him something or there'd be hell to pay. _Damn it, Daniel, why didn't you run when I told you to? There wasn't anything you could have done. You better not be dead or I'll drag you back from the afterlife and kill you myself. Carter? Teal'c? Find him for me. And don't let anything have happened to **you** either._

There was a bustle in the corridor, and Teal'c strode into the room like an icebreaker cutting its way through the North Atlantic, trailed by a fleet of base personnel with Carter, Hammond, and Doctor Warner in the lead--and the Jaffa had Daniel cradled in his arms. Carter and Teal'c looked a little the worse for wear but they were on their feet, intact--and Daniel was _moving._

"Daniel!" Jack was halfway out of bed before Fraiser's palm landed on the center of his chest. Disgusting that a little tiny woman like the Doc could hold him down so easily. "Daniel, talk to me?" Jack yelled, struggling in vain to push her away. 

At the shout, Daniel's head lifted--oh, god, he was _alive_. He was wide awake and looking at him, and his face was full of pain, pain that was rapidly eroding away in the face of the same overwhelming relief that Jack felt. "You're not dead." Daniel's voice quavered. "They said you were dead. Oh, god, Jack, they showed me a tape of you dying." 

"Had to be fake," O'Neill said instantly. "I'm fine, and I'd be over there giving you a shaking for scaring me out of twenty years growth if the Doc wasn't doing this muscle number and keeping me down." 

Daniel struggled, and Teal'c let him down, but he kept an arm around Jackson's waist. Daniel's adrenalin must be doing a better job than Jack's was because he staggered unsteadily all the way across the room to Jack's bed without once falling down although he came close a few times. There was a dressing on his arm and nasty shadows in his eyes, but not even Teal'c could impede his determined progress. He only stopped because he ran into Jack's bed. He hesitated, put out his hands, then drew them back unsteadily and wrapped them around himself. Jack didn't like the look of that. 

He favored Fraiser with a glare that should have warped her where she stood, and somehow she caved under it and took away the hand that had been holding him down. Teal'c shifted one pace to the right and got his hand under O'Neill's good elbow and heaved him up, all without once letting go of Daniel. He arched an expectant eyebrow at the colonel, and signaled toward Daniel, all without moving more than that one brow, and waited. 

"You scared the _hell_ out of me," Jack blurted accusingly. "They gave you a tape. They left me a _body_ wearing your clothes." 

Daniel blinked at him in astonishment and hugged himself tighter in shock, then he said, "God, Jack, I'm sorry." 

"It wasn't _your_ fault." 

"But I... They said I could have saved you." 

"I don't know who these guys were but they must be into mind games. We're both fine. We're here, and I swear to god I'm gonna go over there with every major weapon I can carry and turn them into ashes."  He realized how hard the experience had been for Daniel, who had more than his share of a guilt complex to begin with. "Ah, hell, Danny," he breathed. 

"Ah, hell, Jack," came the reply. He let go of himself and grabbed for Jack instead--about time, too. And they simply held onto each other, needing the tactile proof of each other's survival. Jack's stitches twinged, but he didn't care. Teal'c held them both steady and Carter was right there with her hand on Daniel's back. Everybody else was smart enough to stay out of it. 

"It was never your fault," the colonel said into Daniel's hair. "Not for a second. But next time I tell you to run, you do it." 

"No," said Daniel succinctly against O'Neill's shoulder. 

"Insubordination?" Jack asked with careful lightness. 

Daniel was still hanging on. "Not if you tell me to run and leave you in danger. I won't do that. None of us would. Don't expect me to." 

__Daniel's head came up. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Really?" he asked as if Jack's words were an affirmation of his value. 

"You bet, really," O'Neill said as he let go. "But don't you start thinking that means you can drag me for miles over hostile planets so you can read stupid messages in Sumerian when hordes of Jaffa are waiting to blast us." 

"They weren't stupid messages," Daniel insisted automatically. "They were important. I hope I didn't lose my camera...." 

"Your _camera_!" Jack exploded in disgust. "Your _camera_? For crying out loud, Jackson, you need to have your head examined." 

"No, but he needs his arm examined," Fraiser interjected smoothly. "And if you don't lie down right this minute, Colonel, I'll--arm wrestle you for it." 

Jack muttered something under his breath about tin-plated dictators with delusions of godhood, but he didn't say it loudly enough for her to hear him. 

Daniel sagged back against Teal'c, who scooped him up again without the slightest hesitation and dumped him on the next bed. 

  

*** * * * ***

  

_...could have saved him...._

_ He didn't know if the shout were real or if he'd cried out only in his imagination, but it roused him from the endless cycle of the nightmare, and he shifted uncomfortably, struggling to wake up. _

_He felt the darkness begin to lift. For long moments he lay there afraid he was back on the planet. Had it been real, after all? But even before he opened his eyes, he realized he was too comfortable. His arm didn't really hurt any more, just a dull ache to let him know it was healing. He was warm, and the bed was soft, and he knew he was back at the SGC in the infirmary. It felt like he had an IV running into the back of his hand. Someone was watching him. He could tell that as clearly as if he'd been watching back. It was not an uncomfortable scrutiny, but rather, a reassuring one. It made him feel safe. He opened his eyes._

 _

"Well, it's about time," said the voice he'd once believed he would never hear again. "I've been waiting for you to finish your beauty sleep all afternoon. Gotta say watching you sleep is nearly as much fun as watching grass grow." 

"Jack?" Daniel turned his head and saw his friend on the next bed. He was still swathed in bandages, but he was sitting up on his own, and he looked very much alive. Not only that, he looked like he'd been sitting there guarding Daniel's sleep for a long time now. Memories of his earlier reunion with Jack flooded back, and he drew a deep, relieved breath. The nightmare hadn't been real after all. The dreams had been only that, dreams. This was the reality. "I thought you were dead," he said involuntarily, and it was hard to get his lips and tongue to move around the words. Jack was alive! Joy filled his entire being. 

"Believe me, I know. I thought _you_ were until Teal'c hauled you in here. I wasn't very sure about him and Carter for a while either." He grinned, but Daniel could see a few shadows in O'Neill's eyes that were probably a perfect match for the ones in his own. 

But his own had begun a cautious retreat. He smiled broadly, feeling at peace for the first time since it had all started. "You don't know how good it is to see you sitting there." 

"Right back at you." O'Neill's left arm was strapped to his side and a sizeable bandage covered most of his shoulder; other dressings adorned his body here and there, and he had two IV's. He looked a lot worse than Daniel did. But he was conscious, alert, and determined--and best of all, he was safe. 

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Jack reached out with his good arm across the space that separated the two beds, and Daniel put out his hand. They clasped each other's wrists, squeezed reassuringly and let go. 

"What about P5R-676?" Daniel asked. He sagged against his pillow, too weary to sit up yet. "The people down there?" 

"They won't bother anybody again," Jack reassured him. "We sent a team over and talked to them. Hammond didn't think it would do any good, but they tried anyway. When the team was on the way back to the Stargate, they heard a massive explosion behind them and went back to investigate. The people blew up their settlement, Daniel. No one survived." 

It took a second for the meaning of Jack's words to register. "You mean they're all dead?" 

"The team told them we'd find a way to keep them there on the planet. We'd send someone to remove their Stargate. I think the Tok'ra might have done it for us. They only owe us about forty-seven favors, and it's time to collect. The locals must have thought there was no point in going on if they couldn't have the hope of ambushing helpless gate travelers anymore." 

"They'd lived too long," Daniel said almost sadly. "One of them said they couldn't feel anything except pain, and when they couldn't get someone like me to...torture, they'd feed off each other." He shivered, sorry for that particular choice of words, especially when O'Neill's eyes narrowed in realization. The nightmares would probably bother him for a while. A few more to add to the overall Daniel Jackson nighttime film festival. "They probably enjoyed their deaths." The memory made his stomach twist. It would take him a long time to forget. 

Jack knew; understanding showed on his face. "Come on, Daniel, it's over. Don't think of it any more." 

"That's not as easy as you think." 

"I know. Believe me, I've got some choice memories from that planet which are going to give me a few nightmares too." He _did_ understand. He smiled. "But, what the hey, we came through it all right, and that's what counts, isn't it?" 

Daniel grinned back. "I guess it is." He paused. "All afternoon? Have I really been out that long?" 

Jack's weary smile told of his long vigil. "You have. Some people will do anything to get out of work. At least Fraiser studied one of those dog thingies. The greathounds. Had one brought back. They're not really dogs, not like we know it. And the best part is that whatever they are, they aren't prone to rabies, so we don't have to go through _that_ particular treatment. And I have to say, I'm really glad about that." 

That hadn't even occurred to Daniel. His arm felt so much better he hadn't even considered the possibility. 

They turned as the door slid open and Sam, Teal'c and General Hammond came into the room. Carter's eyes ran over both of them, and she relaxed to see them both conscious. Teal'c nodded at them in greeting. Daniel found a quick, grateful smile for both of them for his rescue. 

"Well," said the general, "It's good to see both of you awake." 

"It's good to _be_ awake," Daniel said. "And to be here instead of there." 

"Although we're ready to be out of _here_ , too," Jack pushed. He had never been very good at taking medical advice. 

"Not till Doctor Fraiser releases you." 

"I knew there had to be a catch to it," O'Neill groused. "Hey, Daniel, what say we wait till these nice people leave then we stage a breakout?" 

"Doctor Fraiser will expect you to remain," Teal'c insisted. "Shall I again allow you to fall upon your face and put you back in bed or have you learned from your previous error?" 

Jack rolled his eyes at Daniel. "Goes right for the jugular, doesn't he?" 

Home. Daniel was home. He was safe, and the world was right side up. Listening to Teal'c's dry tones, seeing the amused sparkle in Carter's eyes and the way Hammond's mouth twitched as he struggled not to laugh, Daniel let some of the tensions finally slip away. "Why not?" he asked. "He's right." 

"You weren't even _there_ the last time I did that," Jack accused. "You were off being invisible with the crystal skull." 

Daniel realized Jack had tried to get up too soon to come to his rescue, and the knowledge warmed him. He grinned. "No, but I'm there this time. Go ahead, Jack. Practice for our great escape. At least Teal'c's here to haul you off the floor." 

O'Neill snickered, but he knew Teal'c too well to attempt it. Instead he settled himself with a great show of compliance, and pasted a 'wait on me hand and foot' expression. "Okay, if I'm stuck here, let's make it worth my while. There's a hockey game on tonight. Teal'c, you bring me a portable TV. Carter, you get the chips and dip. General--" He caught himself. "Guess I can't ask you to bring the beer." 

Hammond's expression made it abundantly clear such a request would _not_ be a good idea. 

"Well, you come anyway," Jack offered. "Here I am laid up. So let's have a little sympathy. You can fluff my pillows, Carter, and get Doc Fraiser to help you, and Daniel doesn't have to do anything, because he's laid up, too, so the rest of you--" 

His three visitors exchanged a knowing, disgusted look, then turned as if they'd choreographed it and walked out of the room without a backward look. 

Daniel disgraced himself by laughing so hard he nearly fell out of bed. 

**The End**

  


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> © December, 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. 

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